A Moment Lost in Time
by lilblueangel1223
Summary: She only had one chance left to convince him to help her before she lost her purpose for living. But just how could Hermione turn to Draco for help when he didn't seem to have a clue as to any sort of relationship the two of them had had - let alone what drives her to keep living each day?
1. Chapter 1

**A Moment Lost in Time **

_**Chapter 1: And So it Begins**_

Draco Malfoy's eyes narrowed slightly as he watched with slight interest as the tired and haggard looking young woman ducked into the café to avoid the chilling winter air that had slowly started to creep upon London as the holiday season quickly approached. As he nodded in feigned interest at his mother's recount of the shopping excursion she had had the day before where the saleslady had been particularly rude to her, telling her that blue was not her color – "As if there's a color that _isn't _in my color scheme!" she had huffed – his grey eyes watched in speculative calculation at the familiar face he had not seen in quite awhile.

He saw her exchange a few words with the hostess at the front of the café before she was led to a small table, close to where he was sitting at with his mother for their afternoon tea, near a warm magically charmed fireplace near the back of the restaurant. Hermione Granger, he mused under his breath. He hadn't seen her face since the Great War. His thoughts seemed to become muddled as he tried to recall her face alongside the Golden Duo. Draco frowned, but was quickly brought out of his thoughts as he closely watched her actions, finding something incredibly off about her. Something was missing, something important, and Draco couldn't figure out what it was. As she fidgeted nervously at her one person table, he noticed that her eyes kept darting back and forth from corner to corner. She looked smaller, gaunter than ever. Her shoulders were hunched together as she leaned over the piece of paper that served as the café's menu, and despite the fact that she was wearing a shirt that was obviously too big for her, he could tell that she had grown much thinner than a woman of her age was supposed to look.

"Draco! Are you listening to me?"

Draco's eyes immediately snapped from staring at Hermione Granger to meet the impatient eyes of his mother. "Sorry, mother. You were saying about your trip to Gladrags?"

"I was finished with that story ages ago, dear. Is this what you do whenever I talk to you? Tune me out?" Narcissa Malfoy asked him before she took a sip of her Earl Grey tea with one lump of sugar. "No wonder you're still single!" She shook her head as if berating him before reaching over to pluck some lint off of his expensive monogrammed robes.

Draco frowned, but he didn't make a comment, knowing that once she started on her marriage reel, she would be hard-pressed to stop and change the subject.

"My goodness, if only you were still seeing that wonderful, wonderful witch Daphne Greengrass. Or if things had worked out with Pansy, seeing as how you two go far back. You know, dear, your father and I just want you to be happy…"

Draco tuned his mother out, returning his attention to the Muggle-born witch who was now warming up her mitten covered hands by blowing air on them. It _was _rather surprising seeing her at Scones and Cones when he hadn't seen her for the longest time. It was as if she had slipped out of the Wizarding World's radar. The _Daily Prophet _continued to blast news about Harry Rather-Notter and Ron Weasel, but there was never any news about Hermione Granger. It never struck Draco as odd because he simply hadn't cared. Any news regarding Potter and Weasley made him immediately want to retch, so he had his personal assistant throw away any articles about the two before giving the newspapers over for him to read. It worked well that way.

He noticed his mother take a moment's pause, and he turned to look back at her. "You're ready to leave, Mother?" he asked her. She had already finished her tea and blueberry scone, and was currently in the process of placing all her dirty dishes in a neat pile in front of her.

"Yes, dear, but like I said to you last night, I have to run to the salon. I have an appointment with Madeline and I'm already fifteen minutes late. All that talking about you and marriage always makes me lose track of time. I think Rose is already there, and you know how Pansy's mother hates it when anybody is late." She paused to dab a handkerchief daintily at her lips. "I don't know how she functions knowing that her husband is in Azkaban. It's best if I'm there for her as much as possible."

Draco nodded, taking his napkin from his lap to wipe his lips as well. His friend's father hadn't managed to escape the "Wanted Death Eater" list and was sentenced to life in Azkaban, while Pansy and her mother had managed to stay out of the spotlight, donating a generous sum to the Ministry to keep their name from being associated with the Dark Arts. "I suppose I'll see you back at the Manor for dinner, then?"

Narcissa smiled, "Of course, dear." She bent down to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I hate to leave you here by yourself."

"That's all right mother. I'll be fine."

Narcissa smiled affectionately at her son before she walked out of the restaurant to Apparate to the salon.

"Finally, a moment of peace," thought Draco as he sat back in his chair.

His eyes once again focused upon the witch sitting not far from him. Something about Granger wasn't right, but he wasn't sure what it was. As his gaze narrowed in on the witch who was now taking a sip out of the drink that she was holding in her mitten-covered hands, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that he wasn't the only one who had been curious about her reappearance. His head turned slightly as he took in the couple sitting to his left. The woman, who was sitting on a rather comfortable looking chair that faced Granger's direction, eagerly shook the hand of the man who was sitting across from her. Draco frowned as he saw – and heard - her mouth, "Hermione Granger is sitting there all by herself!" Her whisper was more of an excited shout. After she had uttered her sentence, the patrons all around her snapped their heads up, as if they were brainless puppets, to survey the scene of the lost, but now found Golden Girl. Yet despite all the whispers and excited chatters that were swirling through the air encircling Granger, she didn't seem to notice them at all. She was too caught up in her own little world and her own thoughts to even give the people around her a piece of her time.

Draco searched his memory, trying to recall the last time he had interacted or even thought of the witch. It was odd that he didn't have any of her besides the ones of them two at Hogwarts. Draco had ended up joining forces with the Order, providing to be crucial help to Harry in bringing down Voldemort. His efforts in aiding the Light side were rewarded after the battle had been over. It was partially due to Draco's act of heroism in helping bring down Voldemort that Lucius and Narcissa were spared from any sort of punishment. That didn't go unnoticed by a lot of Draco's peers in Hogwarts, as many found it unfair that they had to have family sentenced to prison while the Malfoy family got off without even a scratch. Draco spent many years working hard to expel all doubt from everybody's mind that he didn't deserve the reward that he got, and had almost gotten to the level of satisfaction that he thought was appropriate for where his family name should stand.

So it was extremely odd that Draco couldn't find any memories of himself interacting with Granger during the war, although he knew that he had fought alongside of her, Potter and Weasley. Nor did she once cross his mind while he was working hard to rebuild the Malfoy name. He would have thought her brilliant brain that she had back in Hogwarts would have put her in line for something great. But by the way she was dressed, she seemed far from it. Before he could think much further upon the matter, he noticed a big commotion in the window outside of Scones and Cones that pulled him out of his thoughts. Apparently the reporters and photographers had gotten word that the Golden Girl was back, and outside every window were photographers who had their magical cameras at their eyes, snapping pictures left to right.

Draco noticed with a growing amount of dread that Granger had _finally _noticed that there were others who had noticed her presence as her eyes grew wide and her mouth fell into a slight frown at the amount of paparazzi that was focused upon her. The feeling of dread settled at the bottom of his stomach, sitting there and causing the rest of his body to tense up.

He had never been one to care about others outside of his mother and his few friends. He only cared for his own interests and his own benefits. In fact, he rarely did anything that didn't help him achieve some sort of personal satisfaction or gain at the end. So just why did he feel this over encompassing need to do something to force away that frown on Granger's face? As more whispers ensued, Draco quickly made up his mind and stood up. It seemed as if his feet moved on their own, a separate entity from his brain, which was at the moment, temporarily disabled from doing any thinking. The walk over to Granger's table seemed to last an eternity, and Draco had no doubt that each and every wizarding reporter perched outside the small café was capturing each and every move Draco was making.

He finally reached his destination, and without asking for any invitation of any kind, he pulled an empty chair away from an unused table next to him, and propped it in front of the forlorn girl who was sitting in fear and shock. He plopped himself ungracefully and un-Draco like into the seat before he offered her a smirk, as if it were an everyday occurrence for him to be having tea with her.

"Hello, Granger," he said, watching as her dull and lifeless brown eyes focus upon him and her mouth drop open in a perfect "o" at the shock of seeing him.

* * *

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Author's Note: **Hello to anybody who is reading this! I haven't updated my stories in such a long time, but I was struck with the motivation to write after reading so many wonderful fanfictions in the past few years. My writing is a bit rusty, so please bear with me. I would love any positive feedback or constructive criticism!

Another important note is that this story will probably stray from the series and will not strictly follow the books. I have this idea of a story in my head with characters that I have made up and want to bring to life. Thank you for reading and I hope you'll take this journey with me!


	2. Chapter 2

**A Moment Lost in Time**

_**Chapter 2: Just Her Luck **_

**Disclaimer: **All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Out of the many people who walked through the streets of Diagon Alley, Hermione Granger had to have been either the luckiest or unluckiest to find Draco Malfoy sitting across from her. As she sat there, stunned by all the commotion that was happening both inside and outside of the café, she drank in Draco's appearance. He still had the same platinum blond hair that he had back in Hogwarts, and while he looked like the same Draco Malfoy from three years ago, his facial features were more rounded out and more defined, giving him a more mature and adult look that suited him. His chin held a trace of stubble, framing his lips. That same platinum blond hair no longer held any trace of gel in it, but instead looked incredibly soft, as if it was begging for somebody to run her fingers through it. The short bangs that sat on his forehead led to his sharp and stormy grey eyes as they evaluated her watching him. His expensive and specially tailored clothes only made her more aware of the fact that she didn't belong here, sitting at the same table with him.

"Granger?" Hermione's startled eyes flew up to meet the inquisitive grey ones of Draco's. They held no warmth nor did they hold any trace of coldness. There was nothing but mere curiosity, it seemed, for the young woman who sat in front of him.

Hermione quickly snapped out of the moment and regarded him with cool eyes. "I didn't invite you to sit down, Dr- Malfoy."

He looked surprised that her voice was flat and didn't hold any kind of emotions. "You do know that you were being eaten up by all of the photographers. There's going to be a huge story about you tomorrow in all of the newspapers. _Hogwart's Golden Girl returns to Diagon Alley to have tea … alone_." He chuckled at his own joke.

"So what compelled you to sit next to me? _Why _would you even want to?" she asked in retaliation. Did you come over to bring me down some more? 'Hey, what could make this day any better? Let's pick on Granger and make her life miserable!' Is that what it was?" she asked hotly.

By now the entire café was buzzing with excited whispers as they all witnessed Draco Malfoy sitting with Hermione Granger. Flashes were going off left and right as photographers frantically tried to capture each moment of this exciting story. Yet that did nothing to break apart the conversation that the two of them were having.

"Listen here, Granger. I don't give a damn as to your problems or your sob stories. I don't even know why I came over. Maybe I'm delusional. But you should count yourself lucky that it was _me_ who walked over and sat down here," he replied as he sat up straight in his chair and uncrossed his legs to level himself with the ground.

Hermione gave a humorless laugh. "Malfoy, I don't need your pathetic arse in any chair near me. Nothing that you say or do could possibly benefit me. And if I do correctly recall, I didn't ask for you to saunter over and plant your huge ass into that chair. I was doing fine sitting by myself, and I'll do even better if you leave me alone!" Her eyes flashed as she glared at the man sitting at the table before her. It was simply not her day. And she didn't even know why she felt so angry, except that Malfoy – _not _Draco – could rile up so much negative energy in her that she _wanted _to fight. Despite not seeing each other for three years, they could _still _have those famous tongue-lashing fights that were so common during their years at Hogwarts. She had to admit, it was much better than sitting at the table feeling sorry for herself.

The truth was, she _did _need Malfoy. It took a lot of pride – she had to reach deep down inside her heart to pull that idea out of the tightly locked suitcase tucked deep within her. She just didn't know how to approach him or how she could possibly bring up what she needed to say to him. She did judge him. After the past few years and the betrayal she felt, how could she not? He certainly acted in the same arrogant manner that he had back in Hogwarts. But then another part of her seemed to be convincing herself that perhaps he was just like her, putting a mask before any true feelings or thoughts that radiated from within him.

"Fine, have it your way," he replied in a clipped voice. He quickly backed up the wooden chair and stood up. He reached into his pocket and threw down a few galleons. "Since you obviously don't have enough to take care of yourself," he said shortly, giving a cursory glance at her robes, before he turned and swiftly walked out the door. She watched as he pushed past the reporters who had their wiz-mikes out in hopes of getting a statement from him. Then again, maybe he was still that same arrogant jerk from their schooldays.

If he had uttered that statement to get a rise out of Hermione, it certainly did the job. Heat flamed her cheeks as her mind tried to wrap itself around the meaning of his comment. She knew she looked a bit disheveled, but she had just been too busy to pay any mind to that part of her life. Earlier that morning, she had quickly gotten dressed and left the small and cramped apartment that she was renting to go somewhere with more … human interaction. She had been alone for too long, and she needed to be immersed with human interaction. If she had know she would be running into Draco Malfoy, she would have locked the door and hid her wand to prevent herself from leaving her miserable, but safe from Draco apartment.

She hadn't been back to the Wizarding World, let alone London, in a few years. Recalling what had driven her away only brought back painful memories, so she forced it out of her head. She knew the consequences of returning back here, a place where she had once called home. She knew that she would run into familiar faces or possibly even see her old friends once again. She definitely wasn't ready, but she knew that if she didn't take the plunge and go out there, she would never be ready. And just where did that plunge bring her? Right smack in the middle of all the paparazzi – and even worse, she had to have been confronted by Draco Malfoy of all people! Luck really wasn't on her side.

Hermione quickly gulped down the remaining tea that was in her now cold mug before getting up and making her way towards the door and away from the suffocating glances of the patrons around her. Although she was embarrassed and a bit ashamed that money had been thrown onto the table like that, the truth was, the tea _had _been paid for. And she certainly knew the value of each and every sickle.

She kept her head down to avoid meeting anybody's eyes and breathed out a sigh of relief when she exited the small café. Although the reporters were still crowded around her – all of whom were asking for her to give a comment or two about why she was back in town and with _Malfoy_ of all people – she felt a bit lighter than she had felt sitting in that suffocating chair in the café.

She ignored the reporters and strode purposefully towards an unknown direction. She wanted to seem busy so as not to draw any unwanted attention. Yet unbeknownst to her, that was all she was doing. Heads whipped around to focus in on the Golden Girl. Her small size and worn clothing stood out from the other pedestrians' nicer looking robes and stylish bags. She seemed to be attracting more and more attention the smaller and smaller she tried to make herself become.

Hermione had just taken a deep breath of fresh air to calm down her nerves and was planning to apparate back to her small apartment when she heard a familiar voice behind her gasp out, "H-Hermione? Is that really you?"

_Crap_.

Somebody had recognized her. That meant she would have to turn around and endure some meaningless conversation with somebody she did not give two galleons about. She turned around very slowly, all the while wishing that she was somewhere else – anywhere but here – and not reuniting with old friends. Her eyes widened when they met the shocked brown eyes of Ginny Weasley.

"Hermione!" Ginny squealed, throwing her arms around the blinking girl. "When did you get back? Why haven't you owled me back? Do you have any idea how worried Harry and Ron have been? It's like you disappeared from the face of the planet!" Her sentences came out in a quick rush that left Hermione a little dazzled as she tried to catch everything Ginny had just said. Like always, Ginny was a whirlwind of excitement; her energy was constantly flowing and she could make everything seem that much more alive just by being near it. Hell, even Hermione felt a bit more alive just by being around Ginny for a few seconds.

As Hermione tried to think of what to say to the girl that had been her closest female friend back when she was at Hogwarts, she quickly took in Ginny's appearance. Her hair, like it had always been, was the first thing that people noticed about her. It was fiery red with traces of auburn in it, and when the sun hit certain places, a few strands would sparkle a brilliant soft gold tint beneath the bright light. Her hair flowed around her face, matching Ginny's very expressive facial movements and even complimented the few freckles on the bridge of her nose. She was still very petite and dainty, and the fashionable dark blue robe she was wearing, paired off with a bright gold bracelet and gold flats revealed that Ginny was doing quite well in life. All in all, Ginny looked great, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a small stab of jealousy run through her as she started comparing her life to that of the witch standing in front of her. She too could have probably been just as well off and as successful as Ginny, but Hermione reminded herself that she _chose _not to. And she would never regret that decision.

"I-I've been well, Gin," Hermione said softly, the nickname she had for Ginny rolling easily off of her tongue as if nothing had ever happened between them and they were having a normal conversation rather than playing catch-up over what had happened in the past few years. "Just very busy," she said with a tone that meant she wanted the subject to be about anything but what she had been doing in the past few years.

Ginny seemed to sense that Hermione didn't want to share more information, so she very wisely steered the conversation in another direction, allowing Hermione to exhale a breath she didn't know she had been holding. "So many things have happened in the three years you were gone, 'Mione!" she said, also using Hermione's nickname. "Maybe we can sit down for a cup of tea or you can pop on over to the Burrow for a visit. Mum would just love seeing you."

Hermione frowned. Although three years was a pretty long time, she was quite certain that her memory was still fresh. "Your mum isn't … disappointed anymore?" she carefully asked Ginny, her eyes squinting in confusion.

The two had become so lost in conversation that they had become oblivious to the crowds of reporters that had surrounded them. It wasn't until one woman stuck out the wiz-mike and asked, "Ms. Weasley and Ms. Granger, any comments you'd like to address to the Wizarding World about Ms. Granger's return?" that Ginny and Hermione snapped out of their bubble. Thinking quickly, Ginny took a hold of Hermione's elbow and muttered, "Hold tight!" Hermione had no clue what was going on – the whole day was becoming stranger and stranger – until she felt the familiar pull in her stomach that indicated she was being side-apparated to a place Ginny had in mind.

Hermione heard Ginny give a loud "Watch out!" before she actually saw the ground she was to be landing on. She landed on her bottom with a thud, moaning a bit as she took in the surroundings of where she was. She was definitely going to be sore tomorrow.

"This is my place," Ginny said brightly, smiling at Hermione from where she stood. "I'm sorry I didn't ask before I apparated, but I wanted us to have some privacy so that what we were saying wouldn't end up in the papers tomorrow! Those reporters are desperate for any sort of story … it drives me mad!" she said with a huff as she poured a glass of water for Hermione from the pitcher that was sitting on top of the kitchen counter.

She walked over to where Hermione was still sitting on her bottom and gave her a hand to help her up. As she handed Hermione the glass of water, she continued the conversation that they had been having just second earlier. "It's been so long, Hermione. Mum and Dad probably don't remember anything in the past. All they want is to see you and know that you're safe. After all, you're like a second daughter to them," she smiled wistfully. "To be honest, Mum blamed herself for a long time with your refusing to respond to any of our owls."

Hermione froze - her hands were too shaky to hold the glass of water. She set it down on the tea table in front of her, "Molly was never at fault. I … never explained it to anybody, but …" she trailed off, her eyes growing sadder as the memories of the past flashed in her mind. "She was never at fault," Hermione finished lamely, not knowing what to say, but knowing that she wasn't ready to say anything further about that particular subject.

"I think she knows that now. So she would actually be thrilled to see you and … to feed you, too. You look like a skeleton," Ginny said, chastising Hermione as if three years had never separated them at all.

Hermione grew silent, her eyes falling to stare at the carpet rather than at her friend. "Your flat is really nice," she said quietly, not wanting to talk about the past any longer.

Ginny really was smart as she caught Hermione's hint to drop the subject of her family. "Thank you! I've lived in it for just a few months, but I really adore it. It's not too big, but not too small. I think it's just right for me," she said as she gave a gentle smile to Hermione. "When I first bought it, Mum thought I was crazy. I mean, it's in muggle London and she didn't understand why I wanted to move out of the Burrow to live with muggles, but I just needed a break from living in wizarding London, you know? So anyway, after I bought the place, Mum came over after the few days of convincing that Ron and Dad had done, and she saw how quaint it was. She ended up helping me decorate everything and fell in love with it, too! I love how it's close to these really delicious muggle restaurants, but not too far from Diagon Alley, either."

Hermione gave a small smile at Ginny's long-winded speech about her new place, thankful that it gave her a moment to catch up on her thoughts. She really hadn't been prepared for all that had happened so far. In fact, all she wanted was to get a nice soothing glass of hot tea from one of her old favorite tea houses before she apparated back to her own lonely cramped apartment. But because of her luck, she just _had _to attract the attention of more than twenty different reporters – one of them probably being Rita Skeeter, no less – and come face to face with the one person she was not prepared to see. Draco. Her heart began to pound furiously just at the thought of him. She had managed to get herself riled up by his comments, and had managed to rile him up as well. And to make matters even better, here she was, sitting in Ginny's small, but comfortable flat, sipping on ice water as if it was the most normal thing to do in the world!

She started, knowing that it wasn't right. _None _of it was right. She stood up a little too quickly, getting a head rush. "Ginny, I really appreciate you taking your time out to talk to me, but … I really have to go. I wasn't expecting any of this, and …" she didn't know what else to say.

Ginny nodded. "Okay," she slowly said, "but promise me that you'll come back to visit. I get pretty lonely here without any company."

Hermione couldn't help but let out a side comment, "Really … doesn't Harry come over all the time?" before turning her head away to hide her blush that was slowly blooming over her very pale cheekbones. That was too personal of a comment. But Ginny just cleared her throat and gave Hermione a smug and secretive smile. Hermione had never been one to hold back something she was just itching to say.

"He comes over here enough. But it's not the same anymore," she said that last sentence in a whisper.

Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath and letting her thoughts come out before she could second guess them, "I guess I can visit in the next week or so."

Ginny's eyes immediately brightened. She clapped her hands and gave a short squeal. "I can adjust the wards to allow you to floo right in. But you can also give me a call via the floo if you want to make sure I'm home or not."

Hermione nodded. Before she could even blink, Ginny reached over and gave Hermione a tight hug. "It's been ages, 'Mione. If you need anybody to talk to, I'm always here."

Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat. It had been so long since somebody had given any thoughts regarding her safety or well-being. It felt … nice. She had gotten so used to caring only for herself that having Ginny utter those words of encouragement made her heart feel as if it was trying to expand but not having enough room to. She had pushed everybody away from her, but here Ginny was, still showing her how much she cared.

Hermione gave a few small pats on Ginny's back before Ginny released her. She flashed a bright smile over at Hermione, "I'll see you soon!" she confirmed for Hermione. Hermione nodded and gave Ginny a faint smile before quickly apparating back to her own apartment in the shadier and more worn area of muggle London. She knew that if she stayed at Ginny's for a second longer, the floodgates that she had been holding back for a very long time would unload and that wouldn't do. With Ginny's kind words and her own heart betraying her mind to have Hermione allow somebody in would only cause Hermione to burden another soul with the news that she didn't want anybody to know. No, it was better off that way.

She trudged slowly across the dirty and stained carpet of the apartment and into her small room. She threw herself onto her bed, preparing to allow sleep to just overtake her body. But not before her eyes found the familiar picture that was resting on the table besides her small twin sized mattress – she drank in every detail that had already been etched firmly into her brain. As she focused on that singular memory, her heart began to calm and her worries began to subside from her brain. She was currently alone in her room, but she wasn't _truly _alone. And she knew that it was better of this way.

* * *

Author's Note: I hope this chapter gets some feedback! Please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**A Moment Lost in Time**

**_Chapter 3: Something Terribly Wrong_**

**Disclaimer**: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of JK Rowling. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning as the sun's rays shined brightly and unwelcomingly onto her face through the faded window curtains that she had forgotten to close the night before. Her cheeks felt tight, and she instinctively knew that she had probably had another nightmare during the few hours of sleep that her body had managed to snatch. No wonder she had woke up feeling incredibly drained and sadder than most mornings. Lately, she had been experiencing more and more nightmares – some that would cause her to jolt upright in bed in the middle of the night, thrashing her head left and right as if to avoid the inevitable before she took in her surroundings and realized it had all been just a dream. She brushed the few stray curls that had fallen into her eyes away from her face and shifted her body so that her back was against the mattress, and turned her face towards the one lone window in the small room. Her eyes took in the sunrays, as they enveloped her in their warmth. She allowed her eyes to briefly close as a sense of gratefulness washed over her – she had many things to _not _be grateful about, but Hermione still counted her blessings each morning.

Although Hermione was used to waking up alone, she still felt the occasional pane of loneliness that would randomly hit her on certain mornings. She remembered how it had once felt when she had been happy. Then, her heart hadn't always felt like it would break into two, like somebody intentionally sticking a knife where it didn't belong. This morning was no different, she mused to herself, as she padded into the kitchen to make a cup of fresh tea.

It was strange how the simplest of tasks that she would do would bring back a rushing memory of the past and of when she had been happier. Tasks such as fixing tea, reading the newspapers … She concentrated on fixing her tea, pushing back all memories of the past into a locked corner in the back of her brain, before her eyes wandered over towards the calendar that she had magically tacked onto the wall next to the refrigerator. _Need to visit Derbyshire's outpatient clinic_ she had neatly written in the box of today's date. Seeing as how she had nothing to do at the apartment, and knowing that it would be better … and easier … to go at an earlier time to avoid any crowds, she cleaned up the already tidy kitchen area before apparating to the clinic.

* * *

It had been tougher than she thought it was going to be. She pushed past the few people that were standing around the clinic's cafeteria as she wearily grabbed one of the pre-fixed lunch plates that had already been made. She paid for the meal with the cashier before taking her tray and sitting down at an empty table. Although the cafeteria was filled with people talking, some crying even, Hermione felt incredibly alone, as if she was in a separate bubble away from everybody around her. She was so focused on the thoughts inside of her head that it didn't occur to her that somebody had sat down across from her until she noticed her carton of milk being plucked up from her tray.

Hermione jerked upwards, her startled eyes blinking wildly before they met with the dark glittering brown eyes of Pansy Parkinson. She frowned in confusion, seriously wondering if she had been hexed into another dimension or if she was actually still in bed and dreaming all of this up.

"I'm no doctor, but I think you need whole milk, not 1%, to gain some of that meat back on your bones, Granger," she drawled, smirking to herself as she planted the carton back onto Hermione's tray.

"...Pansy? What in the world are you doing here?" Hermione asked, her heart started to beat more rapidly now that she knew she wasn't the only witch in the clinic. Was it possible that Pansy had figured out what she had been hiding?

"I could ask you the same question," she shot back at her, raising a perfectly plucked black eyebrow as she gave a toss of her short black hair.

Pansy Parkinson still resembled the girl she once was at Hogwarts, only there were more visible changes in her appearance that revealed the fact that she was no longer a girl, but a woman who had been through a lot. She no longer could be called a "pug-face" as she had outgrown those features: her nose had become sharper, probably due to the fact that it had been broken in the Great War and had to be altered back into shape by spells. Her lips were also fuller, but it was Pansy's eyes that captured Hermione's attention. While they were enhanced with mascara and eye-liner, the knowledge, the stories, the tragedies that seemed to radiate from them startled Hermione.

"I … it's personal," she mumbled, looking down at her tray.

"But if you must know, I volunteer here," Pansy offered, giving Hermione a grim smile as she caught the startled look that splashed across Hermione's face. "Yes, I know what you're thinking. Times have changed, Granger. I'm not that same girl I was at Hogwarts, and I know you aren't either." She let her words fade into silence, giving Hermione some time to mull over the situation that was happening.

She honestly couldn't believe that Pansy of all people would be volunteering … and to be volunteering at a muggle clinic? That was unheard of! She didn't know Pansy, but she definitely remembered the stigmas that were directed towards muggle-borns before the war even began. She had to give Pansy credit … her volunteering at a muggle clinic definitely showed that she had changed – and for the better.

"Anyway," Pansy continued, "I'll leave you alone. You don't seem like you're in the mood to chat."

Hermione opened her mouth, but Pansy kept talking, "I know you probably have reservations about me, especially not being in the wizarding world for three years – I read the articles about you in the _Daily Prophet _this morning – but I just want to let you know that the war changed a lot of people, Granger. And I was one of them." With that, she picked up her designer sunglasses from the table in front of Hermione and slipped them onto her head before giving Hermione a slight smile and walking out of the cafeteria.

Hermione let out a breath she did not know she had been holding and asked herself the question she had been asking throughout the entire encounter with Pansy: _What the hell just happened? _

On one hand, she knew she had many hidden stories – stories where she purposely went out of her way in order to protect certain people. But knowing that witches and wizards were infiltrating the muggle world made her feel extremely wary. She wasn't sure whether or not her secrets would stay secrets for long.

* * *

"What did you say?" Draco asked, frowning into his cup of tea before setting it back onto the table in front of him. He had just gotten home from an intense day at the Ministry where he worked as a Defense Tactic Auror, helping to train prospective Aurors into tip-top shape to ready them for their jobs in the "real" world. While that hadn't been his job of choice after the Great War, he had gradually grown into it, and even found it refreshing when he could put all of his thoughts and frustrations into training to release any stress. His job certainly didn't impress his father, but Draco had come to the realization that hardly anything would ever please his father; he had changed after the war, and Draco still didn't know if it was for the better or worse. It was as if a veil had been pulled over his father's head, and Draco no longer could gauge his father's reactions or feelings. Draco could not even provide much energy into worrying over Lucius as worrying over his mother took up most of his energy. She knew her husband had changed, and despite her efforts to bring some life back into him, she had not succeeded. He knew his parents' marriage was falling apart fast, and it worried him day in and day out whether or not he could possibly help salvage it.

"Draco? Are you listening to me?" came the exasperated sigh of his best female friend, Pansy Parkinson. The two were catching up over tea at Malfoy Manor, which they did on a consistent basis. "I said that I saw Granger at the clinic today!"

Draco's head shot up. "What? Granger? In muggle London?"

Pansy sat back, a smug look on her face. "Well, well, well. Looks like you aren't so disinterested after all."

"Cut the crap, Pansy. What was she doing there?" He couldn't explain why he felt the need to know, but all he knew was that almost every fiber in his body waited impatiently for Pansy's answer.

"You know, I kind of like you in this position. Now that I have you here, maybe I'll just tell you later and-"

Her eyes widened when she saw Draco's face harden. "Damn it, Pansy. Tell me now!"

"I really don't know," she quickly said, seeing Draco's no-nonsense face. "I just saw her in the cafeteria, looking so fragile. She probably thought I was going out of my way to tease her, but she really looked like she needed a friend."

Draco sat back in his seat and gave Pansy a smirk. "A friend? Since when do you do that? Are you sure you don't want to be her friend for your own benefit?"

"How dare you, Draco Malfoy!" Pansy hissed, slapping her fist on the elegant wooden table in front of her. "Do you honestly think that low of me?" her eyes looked a little wounded at Draco's quick assumption.

Draco took his time to give his answer, knowing that he had crossed a line that he didn't know Pansy had had. Back at Hogwarts, Draco could recall countless memories of Pansy befriending certain girls in order to copy their homework or even steal their boyfriends. While Draco didn't approve of it, he also didn't say anything to her, chalking it up to the fact that she didn't get much attention from her parents at home and needed desperately to find some sort of outlook at Hogwarts. Which explained the reason why Draco did not truly get to know Pansy until after the Great War, when his mother had decided it was her mission to help Pansy and her mother cope after losing Pansy's father to Azkaban.

"No," he slowly said, his gray eyes narrowing in concentration as he tried to get his words out without offending his friend once again. "You really have changed – your volunteering explains it all – but I suppose I sometimes still see you as the Pansy back in Hogwarts, even though I _know _that that really isn't you," he said quietly.

"Perhaps I took advantage of people when I was younger, hell, even stepped on people to gain some sort of foot in some wretched doorway I thought would be worth it, but that is not who I am anymore. Honestly Draco, fuck you for saying that when you see me every week and I tell you story after story about how I think I'm making some sort of _difference _in somebody's life. Obviously you pay me so much attention," she bit off, her eyes flashing wildly.

"Hey, hold your horses, Pans. Stop assuming things; it was just a joke."

"It isn't very funny, Draco," she shot back. "I guess I don't have your sense of humor, either."

"Look, I'm … sorry. Really," he said, a little earnestly. He watched as her eyes became a little softer and less wilder. Apologies were difficult for him, and he rarely made them. He knew that by apologizing, he was admitting a certain weakness to his character that he didn't want anybody to see.

"I hate you, Draco," she said, rolling her eyes, but unable to keep the smile from slowly spreading across her face.

"But really, you know as well as I do that I'm not that stuck-up bitch that I was at Hogwarts. After everything that happened, I know not to take advantage of people," she paused, trying to collect her thoughts. "You know how you told me that she looked so small and breakable when you saw her the other day? Well … you have no idea. She's hiding something, Draco. Something's breaking her, and I want to find out what that is," Pansy said, her eyes narrowing.

"Pans, this is _Granger_. Not only is she the world's most sought after witch by all the newspapers for an interview with her, but she's bloody Potter's best friend!" he exclaimed heatedly. "I think you're looking too much into it. Whatever her secret is, I'm sure she has friends or whatnot she can confide in. Just leave it alone," Draco said tiredly, running a hand through his blond hair before grabbing the tea that was in front of him and downing it in one gulp.

"All I'm saying is that she needs somebody. Maybe I can be that person that she lets in."

* * *

Draco listlessly pushed around the food on his plate as he half-listened to his mother talking to his father and himself about some shopping excursion that she had had the other day with Elizabeth Greengrass, mother of both Daphne and Astoria Greengrass.

His mother did that often during their mealtimes – she would talk and talk to fill up the silence. Anything to prevent the uneasy tension that was slowly growing over the family. It had been his mother who had asked Draco to move back into the Manor one year after the Great War. As soon as the war was over and the dust finally settled, Draco knew he had to live on his own in order to take control of his own life after he had mindlessly followed after his father and the Dark Lord for the past eighteen years of his life. That had been the best decision he had ever made – he knew that if he hadn't lived on his own, he wouldn't have attained the job he now appreciated; instead, he would have been wasting away his life, drinking Firewhiskey and dating brainless but beautiful women. While it did seem tempting at times, he knew he would have exploded from all the mindcrap that built up the Pureblood society.

A deep cough interrupted his mother's light chatter, and he was startled when he heard a soft "ahem" come out of the man sitting to the left of him at the head of the long dining table. He couldn't remember the last time his father had said something at the dinner table. It even startled his mother, who paused in mid-sentence, as a slow fluster overcoame her naturally pale complexion.

"Father? Did you … have something to say?" asked Draco hesitantly, watching as his father set down his utensil and slowly fold his hands down in front of his plate. Lately, it seemed as if everything his father did was with precision and utmost care, even if he didn't utter a single word at all. There was a purpose to everything he did, as if he took the time to think about doing each particular action before he actually executed it. Draco had studied his father so carefully in the past few months that this breaking of routine currently happening in front of him was starting to trigger an alarm in his brain.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do, son." He raised his tablecloth napkin to his mouth and patted daintily at his lips, wiping nothing off of his clean mouth. "I was taking a stroll through the manor this afternoon when I overheard your conversation with Pansy."

Draco blinked, looking over at his mother to see if her reaction was anything different. It wasn't.

"You were … eavesdropping, Father?" he said before he could stop the words from coming out.

"I believe that as I am still alive, Draco, I am the head of the house and thus, I have the privilege to know everything that goes on in this place, be it all the way in the west wing or right under my nose," he spat out quietly, his mouth pressing into a thin and hard line. "I may not have … been myself for the past few months, but that does not mean my _brain _was not functioning. Do I make myself clear?" he pressed.

"Yes, Father." Draco looked down at his plate, not daring to challenge his father again. Having power or not, Lucius was still his father and he had been brought up on rules and decorum, one of which was not to interrupt his father when he was talking, and especially not to challenge him despite Draco not agreeing with Lucius's ways.

"As I was saying," he continued, taking his hands off of the table before ever so casually using his left hand to pick up his wand that he had placed beside his plate. "Did I hear Ms. Parkinson correctly when she said that a …" he frowned, as if what he was about to say was something vile coming out of his mouth … "Ms …. Hermione Granger was back in town?" He tried to make it seem as if his question was just something out of the blue that he wanted to ask, but Draco knew better. Hell, his father hadn't uttered one _single _word and for him to ask about Granger obviously meant this issue was quite important to him.

Narcissa seemed to be confused by her husband's question, asking him, "Why in Godric's name does that concern you?"

A pulsing vein seemed to suddenly protrude from his father's forehead, and he momentarily closed his eyes, as if to calm himself down. "Just answer the question, Draco," he replied, completely ignoring Narcissa's previous question.

"Well … yes, she's back. But I agree with Mother. What does this have to do with you? After all this time, that's the first thing out of your mouth?" Draco asked, feeling bewildered and a bit lost.

His father chose to ignore all of his questions, but simply got up from the table and walked out of the dining room, his billowing black robes swishing quietly as he walked away. Draco raised his head to meet the startled blue eyes of his mother, and knew, just by looking at her, that they both were thinking the same thing. _Something was terribly wrong._

* * *

**Author's Note: **Please give me any feedback!


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